Vim and Vigor
by Tarie
Summary: The Joker and Batman battle, but J finds himself not quite a loser and not quite a winner... (Hints of Lost's The Island show up, although fic begins as a canon moment.)


Ah, the vim and vi_gor_ of good, old-fashioned hand-to-hand combat. It's so…exhilarating. The thrill of the chase. And you chase, chase, chase, never expecting to actually catch the car. Oh, no. But you can catch the Bat. Man. Yes, you can and you do because, aww, you _complete_ each other.

It's like dance, really. A big, beautiful dance with shiny, blinding lights that's gonna end with a _bang_. What a bang it will be, brought to you live courtesy the good little citizens of Gotham and White Knight Harvey Dent's ragtag bunch of scumbags. How fun it'll be when the party _really_ gets started.

As much as you enjoy the fighting, you can't resist antagonizing the Bat. You like to get under the skin, like a disease that rots away the flesh and gnaws on the little precious bones that are left for the scavengers. Bones are beautiful when they're bare and especially so when they're brittle. When they _break_.

"We really should stop this fighting or we'll miss the fireworks." You can't re_sist_ looking out at the harbor, visualizing the entertainment to come. It'll be _grand_.

"There won't be any fireworks." The Bat is just so de_priv_ed. It's almost pathetic enough to make you laugh but you don't because time is of the essence.

"And. Here. We. Go." Your hand looms in front of Batsy's face, all showmanship and cheek.

_Ha ha ha-_

Ha?

There are no fireworks. There are no explosions. There is nothing and you are reminded of the blade of a knife that has yet to know its purpose. Blank. Lifeless. Unrealized. You like this even less than you like lint and teddy bears.

But the Batman likes teddy bears. He probably had one trussed up in his likeness and read it batty little bedtime stories. _I'd like to rip its head off._"What were you trying to prove, that deep down everyone's as ugly as you? You're alone."

But not alone enough. You have your trusty remote and one lit_tle_ push will send ev-er-y-bod-y sky high and every which way but loose.

"You can't rely on anyone these days. You've got to do everything yourself, don't we? That's okay, I came prepared." You did. You did and you show it to the Bat because Show and Tell is _fun_, especially when you have the better toy. "It's a funny world we live in." You lean in close because you're feeling a bit…personal. Warm and fuzzy, even. "Speaking of which, do you know how I got these scars?"

You're comfortable now, reaaaaally comfortable. You're in your element and you're so _close_ now, close to everything you ever wanted – and the Batman's got a front row seat. How very _di_vine.

"No, but I know how you got these."

Before you can laugh, there is a sharp stinging in your temple and suddenly you're falling. Falling fast, falling forward and the rush of the wind in your hair is lovely. So very lovely. You laugh from the joy and agony of it all, because joy and agony are as intertwined as love and hate and man and woman and Clown and Bat.

"A ha ha ha ha a ha ha ha ha ha—

Oooh!"

Something grabs at your ankle, stops your freeing free fall.

You laugh louder, coat flapping behind your head, blood rushing to your brain, and you've got a _smile_ on your face.

As your body rotates in slow circles, bound to the will of the Bat's cable, you take a look at your surroundings. Most definitely not Gotham – but you like change. You like chaos. And this place? Wherever it is, it deserves a better class of criminal.

Just where have you found yourself? Why, in a cage that is more entertaining than one of Gordon's will ever be! A feeding trough – how_thoughtful_. And the little wheels, some sort of puzzle. My, aren't the natives ever so hospitable here?

You're too far away to grab one of the bars but that's all right. You're content to spin. It's what you _do_. You spin truths and show them to the idiotic masses who had never seen the light before. Who had never done anything but keep their heads down, shuffle along, and be little worker bees. But sometimes. SomAh, the vim and vi_gor_ of good, old-fashioned hand-to-hand combat. It's so…exhilarating. The thrill of the chase. And you chase, chase, chase, never expecting to actually catch the car. Oh, no. But you can catch the Bat. Man. Yes, you can and you do because, aww, you _complete_ each other.

It's like dance, really. A big, beautiful dance with shiny, blinding lights that's gonna end with a _bang_. What a bang it will be, brought to you live courtesy the good little citizens of Gotham and White Knight Harvey Dent's ragtag bunch of scumbags. How fun it'll be when the party _really_ gets started.

As much as you enjoy the fighting, you can't resist antagonizing the Bat. You like to get under the skin, like a disease that rots away the flesh and gnaws on the little precious bones that are left for the scavengers. Bones are beautiful when they're bare and especially so when they're brittle. When they _break_.

"We really should stop this fighting or we'll miss the fireworks." You can't re_sist_ looking out at the harbor, visualizing the entertainment to come. It'll be _grand_.

"There won't be any fireworks." The Bat is just so de_priv_ed. It's almost pathetic enough to make you laugh but you don't because time is of the essence.

"And. Here. We. Go." Your hand looms in front of Batsy's face, all showmanship and cheek.

_Ha ha ha-_

Ha?

There are no fireworks. There are no explosions. There is nothing and you are reminded of the blade of a knife that has yet to know its purpose. Blank. Lifeless. Unrealized. You like this even less than you like lint and teddy bears.

But the Batman likes teddy bears. He probably had one trussed up in his likeness and read it batty little bedtime stories. _I'd like to rip its head off._"What were you trying to prove, that deep down everyone's as ugly as you? You're alone."

But not alone enough. You have your trusty remote and one lit_tle_ push will send ev-er-y-bod-y sky high and every which way but loose.

"You can't rely on anyone these days. You've got to do everything yourself, don't we? That's okay, I came prepared." You did. You did and you show it to the Bat because Show and Tell is _fun_, especially when you have the better toy. "It's a funny world we live in." You lean in close because you're feeling a bit…personal. Warm and fuzzy, even. "Speaking of which, do you know how I got these scars?"

You're comfortable now, reaaaaally comfortable. You're in your element and you're so _close_ now, close to everything you ever wanted – and the Batman's got a front row seat. How very _di_vine.

"No, but I know how you got these."

Before you can laugh, there is a sharp stinging in your temple and suddenly you're falling. Falling fast, falling forward and the rush of the wind in your hair is lovely. So very lovely. You laugh from the joy and agony of it all, because joy and agony are as intertwined as love and hate and man and woman and Clown and Bat.

"A ha ha ha ha a ha ha ha ha ha—

Oooh!"

Something grabs at your ankle, stops your freeing free fall.

You laugh louder, coat flapping behind your head, blood rushing to your brain, and you've got a _smile_ on your face.

As your body rotates in slow circles, bound to the will of the Bat's cable, you take a look at your surroundings. Most definitely not Gotham – but you like change. You like chaos. And this place? Wherever it is, it deserves a better class of criminal.

Just where have you found yourself? Why, in a cage that is more entertaining than one of Gordon's will ever be! A feeding trough – how_thoughtful_. And the little wheels, some sort of puzzle. My, aren't the natives ever so hospitable here?

You're too far away to grab one of the bars but that's all right. You're content to spin. It's what you _do_. You spin truths and show them to the idiotic masses who had never seen the light before. Who had never done anything but keep their heads down, shuffle along, and be little worker bees. But sometimes. Sometimes the hive needs a little…shaking up.

You don't stir. You _shake_.

"Well, hel_lo_, tropical paradise."

You will be its agent of chaos and its salvation. What _fun_ to be had!

etimes the hive needs a little…shaking up.

You don't stir. You _shake_.

"Well, hel_lo_, tropical paradise."

You will be its agent of chaos and its salvation. What _fun_ to be had!


End file.
